


Skin

by silkiemae



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkiemae/pseuds/silkiemae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first boy I ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks. I can still feel him inside my head. It's the same with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

To a man who was impervious to harm, any type at all, she was an addiction. A bullet to the head could knock him unconscious but she could bring him to the brink of death. He could heal from anything, a scratch or a stab wound. The adamantium under his skin and bound to his bone; bound to his very existence saved him from that process—but then again even before the adamantium bound to his skeleton he was saved from death. He had been alive a very long time and no one had made him feel—made his skin move the way she did.

She straddled his lap, her bare skin pressed against his clothed legs, his hands caressing the silk material of her nightgown as she shifted uncomfortably. He could taste the fear on her skin; it reverberated around them and encased the two of them. He smiled, and he could help the way her lips made him shudder.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispered. He leaned forward, desperate for a touch, for any sign of contact but she pressed him away. “Logan,” she warned. “Please.”

“You can’t hurt me, kid. Nothing can,” he murmured, burying his face in her bosom. It was a lie of course. There were certainly ways to dispatch the unstoppable Wolverine. A dispatched head, or if she held on for too long…

But he was willing…for her. If she could make him feel alive, he would’ve let her do anything to him. He would’ve let her kill him.

He had always known there was something different about her. Her shudder at the way those steel knives broke from his skin, her fascination with his healing. Every little movement, every reaction. She was either terrified, or fascinated.

Her warnings always rang through his head every time she tried to stop him from touching her, from embracing her. Every time he let her take a little of his essence, a little bit of his soul. “ _The first boy I ever kissed ended up in a coma for three weeks. I can still feel him inside my head. It's the same with you._ ”

The answer was always the same, it always would be. He couldn’t deny her, couldn’t prevent the shiver of delight as her fingers traced over his chest, barely even touching him so as to just give him the satisfaction of her skin. But then there was that actual touch, that full force, fingers wrapped through his hair, lips pressed tightly together touch. The touch that made his skin literally start to crawl. The touch that transferred _him_ into _her_ and made them one.

Then she would pull away and that feeling would be gone, but she would still have him at least for a little while.

But then he could see that pain, feel the pain she felt every day when she nearly took his life. She didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to die. When he could never die before, never be afraid of death, never have the slightest comprehension of life with death…and she could give that to him. But she just couldn’t understand.

But he could. After watching so many people die, so many ones he loved…Xavier, Jean…hell, even Scott for that matter. After watching everyone fall to his or her knees and bleed out and not recover like he could. It was pain after pain watching them all die.

He could _give_ himself to her, he could _save_ her. He had several times, he had given his essence over, given his very soul and she had lived. He may have been dead if only for a few minutes, but that didn’t matter because she was alive and she was in his arms.

Finally, finally after so much convincing, so many repeated phrases and vows that everything would be okay, her lips were on his. At first, at first it was always just like a normal kiss. An electric spark between two pairs of mouth, pink skin against red skin and tongues intertwining. Then came the crawling, his veins dancing under his skin, the pain and the suffocation of death. She always pulled away just in time, deep breaths for the both of them before he dove in again.

She always stopped him first, always begged for him to let it be. He could never, ever get enough because this was all they could ever have. Anything more than a kiss, a few long kisses would really kill him. If he could ever fully have her, he would be dead.

So he took what he could get, he begged her for more but she never could allow him. There had to be a way…a way to truly make her his, to give himself to her. What she didn’t understand….what she could never understand. It was the lone fact that he would die for her…if just one minute…one second to completely be with her. To completely belong to each other.

That would be okay. If just for that one minute he could be hers.


End file.
